


Vanrin's Story Part 1 and 2

by LtLJ



Series: Hunting Parties Series [8]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Character Study, Character of Color, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Original Character, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-26
Updated: 2007-07-26
Packaged: 2017-10-03 07:54:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LtLJ/pseuds/LtLJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The storm followed them all the way from the Ring, the waves of sand-driven wind breaking against the rocks as they rode into the caves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vanrin's Story Part 1 and 2

**Author's Note:**

> his is a remix of the first half of Hunting Parties from Vanrin's viewpoint. I wanted to try this since I'd never done a remix before, always figuring that because of the way I write, I'd have a lot of trouble doing it. I think it's more a companion piece to Hunting Parties than a true remix.

  
The storm followed them all the way from the Ring, the waves of sand-driven wind breaking against the rocks as they rode into the caves. Vanrin was never so relieved to arrive in the entry chamber, noisy and crowded as nearly the entire tribe came to meet the war party. Vanrin's arms were full, so he guided his sumptor into a clear spot with his knees, then poked it in the side with his heel until it sank to the ground, folding its long legs beneath it.

As the sumptor settled, Vanrin kept a firm grip on the offworlder, holding him against his chest. The man had been unconscious or almost unconscious for most of the ride, the drugs clouding his mind, making him too incoherent to reassure but not too dazed to fight. And fight hard; Vanrin had the bruises to show for it. He risked removing one hand to pull his cloak open, so he could see the offworlder's face.

He was slumped against Vanrin's shoulder, his breathing rough and his eyelids fluttering as he tried to fight his way back to consciousness. It was Vanrin's first chance for a good look at him since he had found him in the Isveni camp, to see if his first impression had been accurate. He was a little astonished to see that it was.

Pale skin warmly tinted by the sun of another world, dark brows, high cheekbones, the first touch of beard stubble low on his cheeks, a thatch of dark hair soft against Vanrin's arm. He wondered if the Isveni had seen the slender body and the fine features, and somehow missed the strength inherent in the broad shoulders and the work-roughened hands. Two of the Isveni had certainly discovered their mistake, though not in time to save their worthless lives.

He pulled the cloak back and winced in sympathy. The Isveni hadn't tried to bandage the cuts on the offworlder's feet, just rubbed some sort of thick sticky substance into the wounds that had done of poor job of stopping the bleeding. There was blood on the cloak, on Vanrin's leg, drying on the sumptor's fur.

The offworlder's appearance had drawn a crowd, staring and murmuring in sympathy. They were used to rescuing offworld women and children, usually timid creatures snatched from their farm fields or homes before their people realized the Isveni were there. The Isveni usually killed any adult men unlucky enough to be near the Ring when they attacked, though Vanrin had heard stories from other freed captives of some men held for ransom, and then killed. Realizing he was staring as well, Vanrin said sharply, "One of you be useful and find the key to the manacles." The Isveni had put chains on all their captives, tight manacles around the wrists with a short length of chain between. The Tasiben had a copy of the key, stolen with great difficulty some time ago. It was much easier than pounding the locks off with a chisel.

"Jada has it, he is releasing the others," someone reported, and went to find him.

Meran pushed through the crowd to say, "We are taking the others to the women's cave. Did you get the-- Oh." He stopped at the sight of the offworlder, blinking in surprise. "I see you did."

Vanrin asked, "The others are well? You got them all?" Between the storm and the swiftness of their escape, there had been no time to inquire after the captives that Meran and the others had freed from the pens.

Recalling himself, Meran nodded. "Seven women and one boy." His expression turned disgusted. "Some of the women are too young to leave their mothers' tents."

Vanrin grimaced in agreement. "We must wipe these creatures off our world."

"Here it is," Jada said, arriving at last. "I was--" He stopped, staring. "Oh."

"Stop staring and unlock the chains." Vanrin felt the man tensing in his arms, and his eyelids were slitted, the green eyes dark with pure hate. "Before he rips my throat out."

Recalling himself, Jada fumbled with the key. "If he is dangerous--"

"It is the only way I can think to calm him." Vanrin hoped it calmed him; nothing else had so far.

Jada leaned in, fumbled for the lock, then managed to turn the key. He unsnapped the manacles, wincing at the vivid marks they had left on the pale skin. But as Jada pulled the chains away, Vanrin felt the offworlder relax. He slumped against Vanrin's shoulder, his head falling back, tense body finally going limp.

Vanrin let out his breath in relief.

  
***

  
Vanrin carried the offworlder up through the passages, into the main living caves. He was finding that holding someone wearing all this cloth was terribly distracting. It made him even more conscious of the warmth and hard muscle under the soft smooth fabric. The material was both stronger and finer than anything he remembered seeing on the farmer worlds, the black and dark gray more vibrant than any of their dyes.

He went up the path to his terrace, and the men of his family were already there, building up the fire and lighting the lamps, putting clay bowls of water in the coals to warm. Vanrin put the offworlder down in his own pile of furs, trying not to jostle his injuries. The man was still completely limp and deeply unconscious; Vanrin hoped he stayed that way, at least while his wounds were tended.

Vanrin sat down beside him, studying him again. He looked even more exotic here, against the rich brown of the furs, than he had in the Isveni camp. _He has pointed ears,_ Vanrin noticed suddenly, leaning in to look more closely. He heard a stir of movement behind him and, looking around, noticed there were far more people on the terrace than actually lived here. He glared, picking out a few miscreants. "Sandin, Elan, Dera, you have no caves of your own to go to?"

"We just wanted to see him," Dera protested. "Everyone said--"

"I am sure your mother will be interested to hear this report of your conduct when she arrives," Vanrin told him, and the terrace immediately cleared of everyone who didn't live there.

As they scattered, Doctor arrived, climbing up onto the terrace with a grunt of effort. He set his leather bag of medicines down, eyeing the offworlder. "They said he was different than the others. I see they were right."

"You tended the women?" Vanrin asked.

Doctor nodded, sitting on his heels beside the offworlder. "None of them are this badly injured." He rested a hand on the offworlder's forehead, then gently lifted his eyelids. Vanrin leaned in to look, seeing that the pupils were too large. His face grim, Doctor said, "The drug is affecting him in an odd way, it will make him very ill."

Vanrin had been fairly certain of that already, just from the way it had affected him on the ride here. This had happened before to a few of the freed captives, and it was not pleasant.

Watching with the others, his nephew Sorin said, "He is so thin. Did the Isveni keep him for some time, and starve him?"

Vanrin snorted. "He is not starved. I have been wrestling with him all the way here from the Ring." He added, "And he killed two of them, after they cut him."

There was an impressed murmur at that.  
Doctor was shaking his head. He put a hand on the offworlder's chest, above his heart. "He is healthy, strong." He flicked a too-sharp look at Vanrin. Vanrin realized he might possibly be showing more interest than just natural sympathetic concern, and eased back a little. Doctor added dryly, "Someone's treasure."

"He is not from the same tribe as the women," Banat put in. "Would the Isveni raid two different worlds in one day?"

"Why did they take him? Because he is so beautiful?" someone else asked.

"That, or for ransom," Banat said. "His tribe must be wealthy."

Vanrin just hoped the man survived to be returned to them, whoever they were. Watching Doctor, he asked, "Will he be well?"

Sorin brought a clay bowl of water and Doctor shifted back, reaching for the offworlder's ankle. "If he stays unconscious while I clean these wounds--"

The offworlder yelled, flailing upright, shoving away, and everyone scattered in alarm.

  
***

  
For much of the time it took Doctor to finish stitching and treating the wounds, the offworlder was neither unconscious nor truly awake. Vanrin wasn't certain if he believed their explanations or not, and being told they meant him no harm seemed to just make him trust them less. Afterward, he lapsed into an uneasy exhausted sleep, and Doctor said the fever caused by the drug was already growing worse.

Meran sent word that the women were awake and Vanrin was needed to explain and calm them. He hurried down to the cave where they were housed, one usually used for giving birth, unoccupied now that the women's tribe was away. It was smaller and much easier to keep warm.

The women and the boy were hurt and afraid, and still somewhat sick from the drug. When Vanrin explained the situation, they seemed to calm down a little, though they were still obviously worried. After being snatched from their home and taken to a strange world, and brutally injured, he couldn't blame them.

As Banat had said, it was obvious these women did not come from the same tribe as the male offworlder. Their hair and coloring was subtly different, as if they had grown up under a different sun. They seemed much more typical of the farmer worlds Vanrin had visited years ago. And Meran was right, some of these women were too young to leave their mothers, too young to bear children. Just when you thought the Isveni could not be more disgusting, they attained a new level.

Then Silve, their leader, asked, "Is Major Sheppard here? He was at the gate with us when the raiders came. He's tall, or taller than I am, short dark hair--"

"Yes, he is here, in the other cave," Vanrin assured her. "He is injured as you were, and drugged. The drug is worse for him, than for you, perhaps because he is from a different tribe?"

"Yes, he comes from a different world. His people are explorers, and we first met them a few weeks ago. They wanted to trade, and to talk with our scientists. When our world was culled, they brought us food and medicine." She laughed a little bitterly. "They were the only people among our trading partners to send help, and they had only been to our planet a few times. That's why he was here that day, he had brought a doctor and nurses, they were treating people in the city square."

"But you know nothing else of them?" If our drugs will only make him worse, or kill him, was what he wanted to ask, but it was nothing her or these other women could know. None of them were doctors, and their acquaintance with these new people was too short.

She shook her head. "I don't know their gate address. My mother does, and the other council members, but they said their gate has a barrier across it. If anyone tried to go through without the right codes, it would kill them."

"They have lots of weapons, and soldiers," the boy said. "My uncle said their technology is like magic."

"Alvan, that's enough." Silve squeezed the boy's shoulder. She added uneasily, "Major Sheppard is very important to his people. They'll come here looking for him."

"I hope so," Vanrin said, distracted. A doctor of this explorer-tribe might still be on the Nevians' world, only a short trip away through the Ring, and he might as well be forty days' travel across the desert while the Isveni were in the way.

  
***

  
When Vanrin got back to the terrace, the offworlder was still asleep with Banat sitting near the bed of furs to watch him. Vanrin had told the others to stay on the other side of the terrace, to give the man as much quiet as possible and he was glad to see they had obeyed.

As Vanrin sat down, Banat said, "He seems a little better. What did the others say?"

"He is called Major Sheppard," Vanrin said. It was an odd name, too. The way the Nevians spoke it, he couldn't tell if it was title or personal name. He told Banat what else the Nevians had said, finishing with, "So they know very little of his tribe, save that he is one of their most important leaders, they have many weapons, and that the others will surely come for him, if they can discover where the Isveni took him."

Banat nodded grimly. "It would be good if the Isveni finally made a mistake, and attacked a tribe well able to fight back."

Sheppard moved his head a little, his dark hair catching on the fur. But his breathing was even and he seemed to be sleeping peacefully; Vanrin hoped that perhaps they had worried too soon, that the effect of the drug would pass off on its own. That perhaps by evening he would be able to have a coherent conversation with Sheppard that lasted more than a few moments. He was curious about these people who called themselves explorers, who had given help to the Nevians simply because they could. In his experience, the farmer worlds were not so generous to one another.

"He will not know our ways," Banat said, and Vanrin looked up, realizing he had been staring again.

Vanrin shrugged, trying to look casual. "Of course not."

Banat was eyeing him critically. "You put him in your bed. He will not know that means that he is with you, and uninterested in other offers."

"I needed to put him down and there was not time to make another place," Vanrin said pointedly. Banat looked unimpressed, and he added, "The Isveni used him badly. When he wakes, I do not want anyone to trouble him."

"Very good reasons," Banat agreed, still sounding skeptical.

_And I saw him first,_ Vanrin admitted to himself, but all he said was, "None of that matters, until he is well."

  
***

  
As the day wore on, Vanrin stayed near Major Sheppard. With the storm dying slowly away outside the walls of the cave, there was not much else to be done, either to destroy the Isveni for good or to get the captives back to their people. He was getting reports from the scouts, sending the younger men out as messengers when he needed to speak to someone. There was no word yet from the women's tribe, but from the scouts he knew the storm was moving in that direction, and would delay them.

Sheppard had spoken occasionally, and Vanrin tried to answer him, but Sheppard was still too dazed from the drug to make much sense. Vanrin gave him water, to help the fever caused by the Isveni drug. Sheppard resisted this hard enough to make Vanrin feel that he must be getting better, though he didn't quite manage to break Vanrin's nose.

But after a while Sheppard started to twitch restlessly, sudden movements filled with tension, like a trapped predator. He had one arm pressed over his eyes, strong bony wrist still showing the deep red marks from the chains. The black material of his top clothing was just clingy enough to artfully hint at the body beneath, and the bottom edge kept sliding up, revealing a tantalizingly narrow strip of skin just above his hips. It was drawing far too much of Vanrin's attention, and he knew it was a taboo for tribes who covered themselves to reveal some parts of their bodies. Feeling guilt for looking, Vanrin reached over to tug it back down.

Sheppard moved and Vanrin's fingers accidentally brushed bare skin. Sheppard flinched away and made a noise low in his throat, a pain-filled gasp that sounded as if it had been wrung out of him by torture.

_That is wrong,_ Vanrin thought, and quickly checked the bandages on his feet, but found no sign of new bleeding or swelling. Then Vanrin leaned over him, took Sheppard's hand carefully, managing to push his arm away from his face. Sheppard's brow was furrowed with pain, his eyes tightly shut. Vanrin cupped his face gently, feeling that his skin was too hot and dry. And it was worrisome that the man wasn't trying to fight him. "Open your eyes for me, Major Sheppard." He carded careful fingers through the soft dark hair, touched his brow gently. "Come on, pretty one."

Sheppard blinked and opened his eyes, but the pupils were unfocused, and he didn't seem to see Vanrin. Sheppard didn't try to take a piece out of him either, which was the reassuring action he had been hoping for.

Vanrin let go of his hand and sat back. "Sorin," he said softly to his nephew, who was sitting by the fire sharpening flints for crossbow bolts. "Go and get Doctor."

  
***

  
Doctor arrived and checked the bandages again. Grunting in satisfaction, he moved up to feel Sheppard's heartbeat. He frowned, and touched his forehead lightly. Sheppard flinched away. Doctor shook his head, his mouth set and grim. "If the Isveni drug does this to him..."

Vanrin nodded, weary with anxiety. "Our drug could do worse." It was made from a plant that grew deep in the caves, during the storm season, and it dulled pain and eased fever.

"Yes. But it may well come to that," Doctor said, and settled in by the fire to wait.

But as evening fell it grew worse, until Sheppard curled up on his side, arms over his head, his entire body tight with pain. His breathing was bad and his heartbeat too fast, and Vanrin sent everyone off the terrace but Doctor, because if the man was dying it should be done in privacy. And Sheppard had tried so hard to conceal his pain, to keep it to himself, that it seemed only right that there should be as few witnesses as possible.

Vanrin hoped it would not come to that. It would be a terrible waste, and a great sadness. And he wanted to know this man, to find out about him and his tribe, and not remember him only as the beautiful stranger who had died in his bed.

Finally Doctor, unable to stand it anymore, said, "We will risk a little of the drug."

Vanrin nodded, resigned to it. He just hoped it didn't finish the job the Isveni drug had started.

Doctor grimaced agreement and got out his bags of dried leaves. He prepared a dose less than a quarter of that which he would normally give.

Vanrin hoped again that Sheppard would fight, the way he had fought everything else they had tried to do for him. But when Vanrin took his shoulders and carefully lifted him, Sheppard didn't fight at all. Vanrin tucked him in against his shoulder. He could feel Sheppard's heart pound, too fast and too light. Doctor handed him the cup and Vanrin made him drink. Recalling an earlier incident with a cup of water, Vanrin made sure he actually swallowed this time, too.

Vanrin put him down gently, and Sheppard curled back up into a tight curl of misery again. Vanrin rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ease the tension in the tight muscles. He couldn't tell if it was helping or making it worse.

"Now we wait again," Doctor said.

  
***

  
But after a time Sheppard's body relaxed, and he lay on his back again, his breathing slow and deep. Vanrin began to breathe a little easier too.

Finally Doctor said that Sheppard was past the danger point. He changed the bandages carefully, then went away to check on the Nevians before going to his own cave. Vanrin sent Banat to tell the family they could come back to the terrace to sleep. The tribe began to settle down, as men put out the lights and banked the fires.

Vanrin had meant to make another bed next to Sheppard, close enough to hear if he woke during the night. But Vanrin saw he was shivering, either with cold or the fever. Vanrin slid into the furs, pulling the shivering body against him.

After a time he could tell that the fever had broken, and Sheppard's body relaxed into real healing sleep.

With Sheppard curled up against his chest, it gave Vanrin some insight as to what it would be like to have him warm and pliant in his arms, rather than fighting or insensible with illness. Vanrin slept lightly, and very little; he was afraid he would roll over on him in his sleep and hurt his injuries. Or roll over on him in his sleep and do something else. Tomorrow, at least, the man should be awake enough to answer some of his questions.

  
*** Vanrin woke the next morning and automatically nuzzled the forehead of the person he was sleeping with, then recalled why that was a bad idea. Fortunately Sheppard was still deeply asleep, breathing evenly. It was also fortunate in that sometime during the night Vanrin's hand had migrated down to cup one firm buttock. He disentangled himself and sat up, just in time, as Doctor walked onto the terrace a moment later.

Doctor examined Sheppard briefly and confirmed what Vanrin had thought, that the fever was gone or greatly reduced, and that Sheppard was sleeping off the remnants of the drugs. Doctor also changed the bandages, reporting that the long gashes on his feet still showed no sign of bad swelling or infection. "This goes much faster when he is not trying to get up and kill me," Doctor commented wryly.

Sheppard didn't wake while Banat and the others built the fire up and made the morning meal. He lay on the furs, half-curled on his side, still looking very strange and exotic against the homey background of their terrace. Vanrin sat near him, suppressing the impulse to pet his tousled hair. His distraction must have been obvious, because Banat noticed and said helpfully, "Well, he did not strangle you in the night, that must be a good sign."

Meran, who had come from his own terrace to talk, cleared his throat and said, "If his tribe are warriors, and they come here after him..."

"The Isveni may try to tell them that we were the ones who stole him," Vanrin said. He had thought of that, but there was simply nothing they could do about it at this point. "They are terrible liars, though."

Banat shrugged. "True. But it would be better if they found us on the way to the Ring than mired up in here." Everyone drew breath to speak and he waved a hand to stop them, saying tiredly, "I know, there is no point in leaving for the Ring if the Isveni still guard it."

Meran poked at the fire, frowning. "I do not think the Isveni will leave this time. I think they are as determined to finish us now as we are to finish them."

"I hope so," Vanrin agreed. "Though it is hard to guess what beings so greedy and stupid will choose to do." If the Isveni left instead to steal more people, or whatever evil thing they did when they were not here, it would at least give Vanrin a chance to take Sheppard and the Nevians back to the Ring, and restore them to their tribes. But now that Sheppard was no longer so badly ill, the urgency was not so strong, and Vanrin would rather destroy the Isveni now. He didn't want to go through all this again, enough was enough. And if the storm hadn't delayed the arrival of the women's tribe, this would be over by now.

Sheppard made a faint noise in his throat, and Vanrin glanced down. Sheppard's eyes were open and he was squinting blearily at the fire. Vanrin saw real awareness in the green eyes, and gave into impulse, stroking his soft dark hair. "You are better?"

  
***

  
Vanrin hadn't really thought John would be able to make it all the way to the Nevians' cave, or even very far off the terrace. The pain had to be terrible, but John not only bore it, but bore it without betraying it by more than an occasional wince and a sheen of sweat on his brow.

The Nevians had said John's people called themselves explorers. _Explorers with soldiers and powerful weapons, who guard their Ring with killing force._ And John, wounded and drugged nearly unconscious, had fought with skill and ferocity. And he refused to show weakness to those he still thought might be enemies.

So explorers they might be, but also warriors. Though they must be principled to some extent, since they had honored their alliance with the Nevians, even after the Nevians had been culled and were of no use to them. And the Nevians must be aware of their new allies' power, at least to some extent, but they seemed not to fear them. The Nevian women were relieved and happy to see John, to see he was well and to have someone they knew to reassure them.

Vanrin just wished they had someone to reassure John. Vanrin was beginning to honestly wonder what the life of a tribe of "explorers" must entail, considering how John seemed hesitant to say much for fear of giving offense. Though considering how eager some of the farmer worlds had been to take offense when the Tasiben were attempting to trade, perhaps Vanrin was not so surprised by this after all.

And if the younger men didn't stop staring like idiots he was going to send them all to the women's tribe for a remedial lesson in courtesy. Or knock their heads together, whichever impulse he gave way to first.

On the way back to the main cave, Vanrin tried to choose an easier if longer path. Then John slipped in the loose rock, and Vanrin lunged to grab him, catching him around the waist. Then Vanrin slipped, and nearly slammed them both into the wall before he caught himself.

They were suddenly very close, and John looked up at him, startled but not alarmed, despite the fact that Vanrin had inadvertently pinned him to the wall. And John wasn't tensing against him, his body warm through the soft concealing fabric.

This was the first indication Vanrin had had that his attraction might not be one-sided.

The moment stretched and John's eyes went hooded, and Vanrin got the distinct impression he was going through some sort of internal debate. But he still didn't tense or pull away or tell Vanrin to let go or just punch him, things Vanrin knew he was perfectly capable of, since he had done them all yesterday. Knowing he knew less than nothing of John's people and he might be completely misinterpreting this, Vanrin started to lean in.

Then Sorin called out from down the passage, "Vanrin, are you there? There's trouble outside!"

  
***

  
**end part 2**

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Vanrin's Story [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1864155) by [librarychick_94](https://archiveofourown.org/users/librarychick_94/pseuds/librarychick_94)




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